


A strange man

by stilesstilerstyle



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Kidnapping, M/M, Sherlock's experiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1305391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesstilerstyle/pseuds/stilesstilerstyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets kidnapped by his own boyfriend, and when he comes to he gets into a sexual adventure, he never dared to dream about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A strange man

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it. This is a story that I dreamt of. I think that's because I've been reading a LOT of fanfiction recently... ^^  
> Well, let me know what you think. :) Enjoy!

John had finished up with his last patient. He was tired, so he decided to go straight home. He gathered up his things and put on his coat. He took his phone from the table to put it in his pocket, and then he saw that he had messages. Several. And they were all from Sherlock.

Come home. SH  
Now. SH  
It’s important. SH  
NOW. SH

John sighed and put his phone into his pocket, he hoped Sherlock wasn’t going to drag him to a case tonight, cause he was really tired, and all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and sleep. He walked out and hailed a taxi. He had to keep himself from falling asleep during the short ride, forcing his eyelids to stay open.  
His tiredness was all thanks to Sherlock. Last night they had a really good time. He smiled thinking about it. It had been like perfection had fucked him senseless.  
It had been wonderful, but also had required him to be awake to enjoy it, and that was the reason why he was almost drooling on his shirt now. The cab came to a stop, John paid the cabbie what he owed, and then stumbled out of the cab. He yawned as he walked towards the dark door with the numbers 221b on it.  
John was just about to open the door, when it swung open. Sherlock stood in front of him, and John could see excitement in his eyes.  
John eyed him suspiciously and asked: “What?”  
Sherlock’s eyes went dark and a smile tugged at his lips. John wasn’t sure he liked what he saw, and then, before he could ask what was going on John felt a needle prick in his neck. He already felt how he was going limp, his limbs giving in to the drug that was coursing through his veins in seconds. He felt his eyelids starting to droop, but before unconsciousness took him down into blackness, he slurred, trying to convey his anger: “You bastard.” Then he fell into the arms of whoever had drugged him, the last thing he saw was the smile of his sociopathic flatmate.

At first it was difficult for John to remember what happened, it was like when you wake up from a deep sleep, and at first, even if it only lasts a few seconds, you forget who you are. For John it was harder, the drug, whatever it had been was making his mind sluggish, his thoughts slow, so it felt like hours for him to remember what had happened. But when the memories came back to John, he felt how his stomach started to fill with anger. Sherlock had drugged and done god knows what to him.  
He tried to open his eyes, but all that he saw was darkness, he shifted his head and felt fabric over his eyes. A blindfold. Jesus, what was Sherlock intending to do?  
He tested his arms and legs, and it only took him a few seconds to realise that, they had been locked in place. His wrists were tied tightly together behind his back, and the ache in his shoulders let him know that they were being pulled up. He was kneeling, on a soft surface to his surprise, and his ankles were being pushed apart by something metal, held firmly in place. And he was stark naked. The anger was pooling in the pit of his stomach.  
If this was another stupid experiment from his flatmate, he was bloody well going to rip his head off. John felt the urge to let said man know this and as he prepared to let the words flow out, he let his tongue roll forward, to push against a hard surface in his mouth. His teeth weren’t touching, and neither were his lips. John felt with his tongue, until he realised that he had a ball gag in his mouth.

He groaned angrily. Now he didn’t even get the chance to tell Sherlock, that he was definitely not on board with this whole thing. He tried to pull his wrists free, but Sherlock would never let a badly tied knot ruin his experiment.  
John was sure that Sherlock wasn’t far. He started to call for him, even though he knew everything that would be heard would only be muffled sounds.  
Then he suddenly heard footsteps, they were echoing through the room, letting John know, that it was a big room they were in.  
He lifted his head as far as he could, turning towards the nearing footsteps. When the footsteps were right in front of him they stopped and John heard the deep baritone of his boyfriend.  
“Sorry John, but I knew, that if I asked you to do this, you wouldn’t have agreed.”  
John was nodding his head and saying: “Damn right, I wouldn’t.” But out came only muffled incoherent words.  
He heard Sherlock chuckle and he felt his long fingers on his cheek. He felt the heat of the other man, as he got closer to whisper into Johns ear. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it a little bit.” John felt a flush creep up his neck and felt how his cock got hard.  
He couldn’t argue, that he didn’t find it hot to be helpless in the hands of Sherlock Holmes. He felt the hot breath on his cheek as Sherlock spoke again.  
“Do you trust me John?” When John heard that, he hesitated, whenever Sherlock asked that, he knew that something dangerous and probably highly stupid was going to happen. But then he thought again about how many times they had saved each others lives, and how long they had been together. Almost two years now. He did trust him.  
Slowly he nodded.

“Good. Then there shouldn’t be any problem with me conducting my experiment.” John cringed when he heard that word. He didn’t like to call sex that, it took a lot of the heat out of it. He heard how Sherlock walked around him, his hand on John's back, caressing and sliding towards the lower part. He was trembling with excitement, he had no idea what was going to happen, and he was not even sure if he truly wanted this. But he was also hard, aching to find out what Sherlock had planned for him. Curiosity won out over insecurity. Sherlock had stepped on what must have been a bed, John felt how the mattress was giving in just a little bit as Sherlock climbed on. His hands were now resting on John’s pelvis. Apparently Sherlock was already naked, there was no shuffling of clothes. He heard how Sherlock took a tube of lubricant and squeezed some out. He shivered when he felt one of Sherlock’s fingers, slick with the lubricant slipped inside him. He was relaxed and ready, willing for Sherlock to fuck him, harder than he had ever before. He was so turned on, to his own surprise.

When he felt the head of Sherlock’s cock against his entrance a soft moan escaped from his lips. Then inch by inch Sherlock pushed deeper, until John felt Sherlock’s thighs against his arse. He was moaning, hardly even realising. Saliva was dripping down his chin. Not being able to see made the whole experience even more intense. Sherlock pulled back and then thrust again, harder this time. His rhythm grew faster and rougher with every stroke, and John felt it every time, when Sherlock rammed against his prostate. He was groaning, being pushed forward, feeling the hands of Sherlock on his hips, grasping him tight. Sherlock got faster and faster, and John could hear him moan, too. He felt the hotness of Sherlock’s come inside of him, and heard him grunt, John himself was on the brink of coming himself, without his penis having even been touched. But just before he could orgasm, Sherlock pulled out, taking all the pleasure with him. John groaned in disappointment, aching to come. He felt Sherlock’s hands on his arms, and his shoulders, which were starting to ache more and more with every second. He tried to protest, which only ended in more muffled noises, which Sherlock obviously didn’t quite catch. But he understood the main thought John was having.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still get your fair share.” He heard a smile in Sherlock’s voice and he couldn’t wait. But then something happened that let his heart stop. He heard footsteps. Not the ones from Sherlock, but from someone else, they sounded heavy, definitely the ones of a man. John was getting really uncomfortable. He started to wiggle around, trying to loosen the bonds around his wrists, but they were tight and secure. Sherlock wouldn’t. Would he. The steps got closer and closer until they were right in front of him. Panic started to settle in his chest, constricting his breathing, he felt lightheaded.  
Sherlock would. Sherlock definitely would for his own use. An experiment. Of course it had to be something new, something they had never done before.  
Sherlock put his hand on John’s head and somehow this was oddly soothing, he should be angry at the detective right now, but John was glad he was there, and he knew, Sherlock would never do anything, that John didn’t give his consent for.  
He trusted him.

“John, meet our special guest for tonight. I am not going to tell you who it is, only that you know him. In this experiment I want to see how the stimulus is, when you get pleasured by a man, whose identity you don’t know, and whom you can’t see.”  
Sherlock spoke clearly and calmly, as if he was talking about the weather. John’s breathing hitched. He was not all right with this. This was not something they ever talked about.  
John admitted to himself that he had thought about what it would be like to be with another man. But he never thought it would happen like this. He took a deep breath through his nose, still feeling the long fingers of Sherlock in his hair.  
He trusted him.

And John knew Sherlock would never choose a man who would take advantage, but someone who would be discreet.  
A long time seemed to pass, thoughts whirling in John’s head until he came to the conclusion, that something had clicked in him, he was curious, and if this would help his boyfriend, if that was what he wanted, then he wanted it, too.  
Slowly he nodded, giving his silent agreement. He felt how Sherlock got closer and whispered in his ear: “Thank you.” Then he planted a gentle kiss on John’s brow.  
The man who had stood silent, waiting patiently now started to take off his clothing. John could smell him. He knew the smell, aftershave and mint, and a very pleasant individual scent. John was aroused.  
Something odd was moving in the back of John’s head, but he shoved it back, not wanting any unwelcome thoughts in this moment. He might as well enjoy it, the new experience, and the adventure.  
The man had finished removing his clothing and was now walking around John. He felt the weight as he stepped upon the bed. He was trembling, feeling butterflies in his stomach.  
Sherlock had moved in front of John now, standing close, calming John’s nerves, which felt like they were going to burst any moment now. His heart was racing in his throat.  
Let’s do this.

Sherlock put his warm hands on John’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb gently against the strain, relaxing John even further. Then Sherlock spoke: “Get yourself into position. There should be enough lubricant to get you going.” John heard a smirk in Sherlock’s voice.  
Well you can say that easily, you had a bloody orgasm. John was now aching more and more for the new feeling of a different cock inside him. He felt the heat of the man as he positioned himself behind John. His big hands found their way onto his hips. They were warm, soft, gentle. Sherlock had chosen well, up until now.  
But John felt something different, he felt the hands slightly shaking on his skin. The man was nervous, afraid to do something wrong. That ensured John only more, he would have been more worried if the man had been brutal, but he was the opposite. Sherlock gave the signal: “You may start whenever you feel like it. I ensure you, John is quite fine with this, aren’t you John?” John nodded furiously with his cock was rock hard.

He felt it, the head of the cock against his entrance, he was relaxed, so it was astonishingly easy for the man to slip in. Inch by inch. It was a different feeling than it was with Sherlock, different, but just as good. He let out a soft moan as he took him whole. Sherlock moved around, to his side. Just as the stranger pulled out, Sherlock’s hand found it’s way to John’s cock, his thumb sliding over the tip, wiping away a drop of precome. John whimpered into his gag, saliva dropping from his chin. Sherlock started the stroke slowly as the stranger pushed in again. In the same rhythm they went. Faster and faster, the stranger didn’t take long to find John’s prostate and he started to pound against it. His mind was full with fireworks. John had never felt anything like this. It was almost too much to take. He was moaning with every stroke. He heard moaning from the stranger, not really caring, all he felt was Sherlock wanking his cock, and the stranger pounding against his prostate.  
He was getting close. He groaned, his balls pulled together and then he came. His vision was taken over by a white light for several seconds; he held his breath, taking it in. It was the best orgasm he had ever had. Just a few seconds later the stranger spilled his own come into John.  
He was panting, just now realising how much this had taken his body to work. He was happy, thankful to both Sherlock and the stranger, without whom it wouldn’t have worked.  
He wanted to thank him, but the man gathered up his belongings and walked away. But before he did so, John heard how he whispered something into Sherlock’s ear, to which Sherlock chuckled.  
When the mans footsteps had fully faded away, Sherlock moved his hands up to John’s head, to remove the blindfold and the gag. When the things came off, John blinked and flexed his jaw. And then he smiled, when he saw the face of Sherlock.

His face carried the expression of happiness.  
“I hope you liked it” he said, in his deep voice.  
John laughed, and nodded. “I did, very much.” He smiled at his boyfriend, as he started to untie John.  
Finally untied, John sat on the edge of the bed. He looked around. It was a spacious room, all wood, there wasn’t much furniture besides the bed.  
Sherlock took a seat beside John, putting his arm around his smaller back, and kissing his neck. “I am glad you liked it. I was afraid you might be angry with me about drugging you.”  
John sighed. “Let’s just talk about that some other time. I don’t want to ruin this moment.” He closed his eyes, feeling Sherlock humming against his ear.  
John giggled and turned his head to Sherlock. “Who was he?”  
Sherlock looked back into Johns eyes, as his own grew dark. “I can’t tell you, I promised I wouldn’t. Besides, he told me he would be willing to repeat it. And if I told you now, it would take out all of the pleasure, now wouldn’t it?” He kissed John deeply.  
John didn’t really care. All he wanted now was to be with Sherlock.

 

The next day John woke up in Sherlock’s bed in the Bakerstreet. He had still gotten some sleep, thank god he had a work free day.  
He smiled as he stretched, not quite sure if last night had been a dream or reality. He pulled himself up, and walked into the kitchen. Sherlock was already sitting on his chair, typing furiously on his laptop. John smiled.  
“Good morning. Do you want tea?”  
Sherlock only made a sound that sounded like: “Leave me be, working, no time for trivialities like tea.”  
John smiled, poured himself a cup of tea. He was wearing sweatpants and a shirt. One of Sherlock’s.  
He walked behind Sherlock to see what he was doing. He was typing about last night. John took a sip of his tea, eyebrows raised. If Sherlock’s experiments would always turn out like they did last night, John would be a lot more supportive. He smiled as he took another sip.  
His head snapped up when there was a knock on the door. In came Lestrade. “Morning Sherlock, John. We got a case. And we need you. A woman who was kidnapped five years ago turned up, and apparently she lost the ability to communicate.” He was stepping into the room, looking at Sherlock.  
“Now Sherlock.” Sherlock was already on his legs on his way to his bedroom to put on some decent clothes. John looked after him, admiring his pretty arse and smiled.  
He walked over to Greg. “I’ll be ready in a few. Just need to put on some clothes first.” He smiled, and so did Greg.  
“I’ll wait here.” Greg turned around and so did John.

  
It was only a whiff, but it was there; mint and aftershave, and a distinctive individual smell.  
John turned back around, looking at the back of the DI, his mouth gaping open. Then he closed his mouth again, a smile tugging at his lips. Of course.  
He turned around again, put his mug onto the kitchen island and walked towards his bedroom.  
He had to keep himself from laughing out loud.  
Of course he couldn’t tell Sherlock he knew, otherwise he might ruin some possibilities of the future.  
He grinned to himself as he got ready.

Of bloody course.


End file.
